You Can Count On Me
by Quickbeam10
Summary: Can words said in anger ever be repaired? Tragedy once again steps in to touch the Cartwright clan making them realize just how truly precious life can be.
1. Chapter 1

You Can Count On Me

**Disclaimer: This story is being written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of the characters and no profit is being made from it.**

Trail dust still clung to his shirt, pants, and boots as Ben Cartwright sunk down heavily into the chair beneath him. The wooden seat offered little comfort to the gray haired patriarch of the Ponderosa as a frown creased his face and furrowed his tanned brow.

The cattle drive had not gone well. It hadn't gone well at all. During most drives problematic events always arose and were addressed, but this last drive had been different. It seemed plagued from the start by constant trouble and misfortune. First, there had been a broken axle, when the chuck wagon hit a rut, leaving the men without a hot meal for the first 48 hours until it could be repaired and Hop Sing could catch up with them. Next, came the torrential rains to a land so sun baked by weeks of drought that a flash flood occurred claiming the lives of two of his drovers and twenty of their herd with its raging waters. The loss of livestock was not what lay heavily upon the older man's mind and heart, but the untimely deaths of two of his men. Two lonely crosses now stood many miles back upon the beaten path behind him as a reminder of their sacrifice.

Though Pete Wilkins and Sam Turner had passed nine days earlier, this was the first chance Ben Cartwright had to reach a telegraph office and notify their families of the sad news. Sam was a loner. He had no family except for an older sister in Sacramento. Pete, on the other hand, had a young wife and son back in Virginia City with another baby on the way. Ben would make sure that Louise, Danny, and the baby were well cared for, but he couldn't replace the husband and father forever lost to them.

Thoughts of Pete's children now turned to his own. Hoss and Adam were at the bar ordering drinks.

"A cold beer will do you good, Pa," Hoss exclaimed. "It' ll wash away that trail dust." He smiled trying to lighten his father's dark mood.

"Hoss is right, Pa, " Adam chimed in. "We'll even order a sarsaparilla for the kid, for when he returns."

"Kid…." Adam was referring to his younger brother, Joe. "Joe…." Ben Cartwright's troubled mind began to wander further as thoughts of his youngest returned to the forefront. The frown upon his face increased tenfold as his dark eyes filled with regret.

His last words to his youngest had been harsh ones before he sent the boy off to the livery to stable their horses. Remembering the hurt that filled Joe's eyes, his stinging rebuke returned to haunt him.

"Perhaps you can show some level of responsibility this day, young man! See to the horses! Your brothers and I will be at the telegraph office and then the hotel."

He hadn't planned on stopping at the saloon, but his two eldest sons, sensing their father's foul mood, thought this impromptu visit might help to lighten their father's spirits some. But as he waited for Hoss and Adam to return with their libation, his thoughts remained with Joe.

Perhaps he had been too rough on the boy. Joe was only fifteen. Not nearly a man yet like his two older brothers. But with Pete and Sam's death, he had given the boy responsibilities that were perhaps beyond his ability to shoulder. Earlier this day, the boy had been caught daydreaming, musing, had let his mind wander…hell, perhaps he was just damn tired like the rest of them…exhausted by the misfortunes of this trip… Whatever the case, he had lost track of a few of the steers. It had taken over an hour for Adam and Hoss to round them up and return them to the herd delaying their arrival to their long awaited destination, market, by another two hours garnering the Ponderosa herd a much lower price than had been anticipated at the outset of this drive . It was to be Joe's ill fate that this would become the final straw to break the camel's already weakened back.

Ben Cartwright's even keel had taken a beating during this drive, and Joe's succeeding irresponsibility had brought his father's already stoking ire raging to the forefront. He hadn't meant to lambaste the boy for his unintentional lapse of good judgment, but once he got started it was as if he couldn't stop the flood of bitter words that left his lips as he let his son know in no uncertain terms of his disappointment with him.

At first Joe had tried to interrupt him, had tried to explain the reason behind his momentary lapse, but Ben Cartwright had not been in the mood to listen.

"Don't interrupt me, young man, when I'm talking to you!" He railed, as Joe shrunk back under the weight of his father's heated words and the intensity of his glare. He then remained silent, taking in his father's rebuke, like a sponge water, as his ever brightening eyes filled with both shame and regret.

When at last the fire sparking Ben's anger diminished, Joe raised his now bowed head to look his father straight in the eye before answering in a clipped voice. "I'm sorry, Pa. I won't let it happen again. I promise. You can count on me."

"I surely hope so, Joseph!" He returned derisively.

"Why…why did he have to make that one, final derogatory comment towards his son? Why did he have to put voice to such cutting doubt? Hadn't he scolded the boy enough already? And then to add further insult to injury, after the long and silent ride into Laurel Springs, he had hung onto the chilliness now between the two of them when he ordered Joe to stable the horses as he walked off with Hoss and Adam.

" How could I let my anger get away from me like that? I'll make it up to you, Joe," He sighed as Adam and Hoss returned to the table to rejoin their father, catching only the tail end of their father's remorse.

"Joe should be here soon, Pa," Hoss interrupted.

"Yeah, it won't take the kid long to get the horses settled," Adam responded before taking a long draw upon the cold beer in front of him. "Ahhh! Now that's good and well deserved, I might add," He finished, his dark eyes now twinkling with amusement.

"Here, here, brother, " Hoss added before imbing as well as he drained the contents of the mug in front of him in one, long swallow, sighing his appraisal. "I knew we should have gotten ourselves a pitcher, Adam."

"So much for foresight," Adam chuckled in return before turning to his father. "Come on now, Pa. Drink up! Joe will be here soon. Enjoy! You surely deserve it."

"Yes…you're right…I guess I should," Ben Cartwright replied distractedly, drawing the mug upwards towards his lips.

He had little time to even wet them with the amber suds before saloon's walls and hardwood floor rocked around them. Glasses from behind the counter were sent shattering to the floor below as the chandelier above them swayed back and forth in reaction to this unexpected momentum.

"What the heck…" Hoss barely had time to register his confusion before someone came rushing in from the street.

"What was that, Harry?" A patron from behind them inquired worriedly towards this new arrival.

"I'm not sure…" The grizzled cowboy muttered as he grabbed towards the counter now in front of him for support in case there was an aftershock.

"Was it an earthquake?" Someone yelled from the back.

"Nah, I don't think so…" The cowboy answered still stunned by the prior tremor that had rocked this small town moments earlier until a shout raised up from the street interrupted him, alerting all within the tense barroom.

"Explosion! Explosion! ….There's been an explosion at the livery!"


	2. Into the Flames

Chapter 2- Into the Flames

**Author's Note: I almost forgot to mention this. Thank you for all your kind words regarding chapter one. I hope you enjoy this next chapter as well. :)**

None of the busy townspeople seemed to pay much mind to the tortured indecisiveness displayed by the wavy haired youth in the slate blue jacket pacing back and forth in front of the livery stable as they kept to their daily routine . They took no special note of the pained expression, which filled his bright green eyes or the traces of emotional havoc that played out upon his downcast features as he remembered the solemn promise he had sworn to his father just a short while earlier. _"You can count on me, Pa."_

A large lump was wedged in Joe Cartwright's throat as his tightened left fist connected roughly with his right palm, the frustration affecting him now reaching a spearhead. Tears he had fought hard to keep under control, while making the long journey into town, could no longer be suppressed as they sprang to the forefront causing a flush of embarrassment to spread across his already troubled features. He was floundering in his attempt to keep his self control under wraps, but at least now he was alone, no longer under the watchful gaze of his father and brothers. For he could hold back upon the emotional upheaval churning inside him no longer , and once again the earlier shame of letting his family down returned as he felt the first trickle of dampness begin to run down his hot face. Horrified by such an immature display of emotion, he quickly raised his left hand to try to scrub away any evidence of its existence, though the threat of many others like it showed sure promise to follow.

"What was wrong with him?" He railed against himself. "How could he have acted so impulsively?" No wonder Pa had been short tempered with him…had roared his displeasure. "Hadn't his careless actions merited such reproach?" But it was so unlike his pa to not hear him out… He never meant to cause his family any trouble. He had only looked away for what seemed like a split second, but the time that had elapsed during his short blunder had proven costly. For when his elder brothers had put to right what he had done wrong, it had delayed them sufficiently enough for the price of each head of beef, which they had painstakingly driven to market, to fall considerably lower than what had first been expected when they had started out upon this doomed drive. No wonder his father had laid into him. He fully deserved it!

_Still it wasn't his intention to become so caught up in the moment. He hadn't meant to let his mind wander, but the sight before him had been utterly breathtaking…like nothing he had ever experienced before during his brief life here upon the expanding wilderness. Watching the building pattern behind the soaring wings as they climbed ever further into the endless blue sky above him had been mesmerizing. He had been awestruck by the ability of this creature's powerful ascension, for it seemed to have but one pursuit in mind, almost damning anything which threatened to stand in its way towards achieving such a goal. _

_He caught another glimpse of the golden beauty, now his to behold, before it became nearly impossible to see, first blending then becoming one with the dazzling rays of sunlight. His green eyes began watering, a reminder of his human frailty. He could no longer keep his stare fixed upon what was happening above him without drawing his left hand forward beneath the brim of his dark hat to shield himself from the sun's brilliancy. He had never set eyes upon such a glorious example of sheer strength of will before, not even at his own home while watching his brothers break the many spirited horses which made up the Ponderosa coral._

_He was amazed by the fearless path this creature had taken as it continued soaring onward towards great heights as if hoping to encounter the fiery ball before it with no thought of turning back; daring to challenge the authority of the day star until it either died from its attempt or established its superiority over the world beneath it. But as the two merged into one, he could bear witness no longer to the ultimate battle that lay ahead of them even though he squinted and tried to maintain his intent focus. All too soon the sting of burning tears proved the inferiority of his earthly strength to remain witness to this splendid spectacle, and he was forced to look away. _

_Dropping his gaze again towards more worldly pursuits, his mind was still held captive by the awe inspiring event taking place above him, and he stood wondering, while his eyes adjusted once again to the more muted light of his surroundings, if he would catch a glimpse of the unlikely victor if it was granted a return flight. His eyes searched the blueness that stretched out for miles about him for some evidence of its continued existence, but he came up empty. He bit his lip briefly in utter disappointment until the hum of hooves making impact upon the hardened turf surrounding him and the mournful bawling of the cattle, they been driving, returned his once rapt attention back towards the here and now. _

_It had only seemed like seconds that he had been caught up in the magical spell of this mighty eagle, but it must have been much longer. For as his bedazzled eyes took notice once more of the growing landscape before him, his next glimpse was of his father galloping swiftly towards him, a grim faced look displacing the usually calm and reassuring features of the man, whom he held dearest in his heart. _

_He had been about to call out to his pa to direct his attentions as well towards the celestial excitement that had momentarily reined above him , but as his father drew closer, he realized in astonishment that the ill temper that had taken over his now stern features seemed directed towards himself. _

Returning to the present, Joe remembered the harsh words that had followed as the two of them met up and his father had alerted him to the trouble his inattentiveness had caused. Later on, upon their arrival into town, his father's anger, which had been given time to brew, was once again directed towards his youngest son.

Tears streamed down marking a pathway upon the boy's tanned and dirty face as he remembered the harshness of his father's exact words. There was no putting a stop to the continued fall of his heartache, not that he didn't deserve it, and he reprimanded himself as well, perhaps even more severely than his father had done earlier, for his stupidity and lack of better judgment.

And here now he stood, outside the livery stable in Laurel Springs, plagued by indecision. He had wanted to carry out his father's directive. He wanted to stable his and his family's horses, but he was too ashamed to enter into this unfamiliar building before him while he was blubbering like a baby.

Then his previously uttered promise returned to taunt him, _"You can count on me, Pa,", _and pride waged war with self-respect.

Looking towards the four horses now tethered to the hitching post a short distance away, he took a moment to try and revive his bruised spirits. Attempting to reclaim his fortitude, he looked towards the entry way ahead of him with set determination and he drew what he hoped would prove to be a deep and steadying breath. Readying himself, he tried to be like the man he knew his father wanted him to be before setting out towards the livery to seek out its owner.

"I'll make it up to you, Pa…" he muttered roughly as he drew even with the stable door, "if it's the last thing I do."

MWMWMWMWM

The air was thick with swirling dust and debris as Ben Cartwright burst out through the saloon doors into the main thoroughfare of Laurel Springs. He had lost track of the location of his two eldest sons as he pushed frantically through the excited crowd surrounding him. The men around him had been jostling for position towards the exit in the hopes of gaining the most advantageous position to view any horrific aftermath that might have followed this unexpected blast. A flash of black towards his right caught the corner of the older man's line of vision bringing him a brief moment of relief among the utter chaos about him. He knew now that Adam was but a few steps behind him followed most likely by Hoss.

Quickly, however, his frantic thoughts moved back towards his youngest as the prior ominous shouts that had sounded from the street moment earlier returned to fill his fearful mind_. "Explosion, Explosion! There's been an explosion at the livery!"_

"Joseph!" He exclaimed as his dark eyes widened with alarm, while he used his large, work worn hands to make a path through the mob blocking his way. "Joseph!" He attempted once more, his heart now in his throat. "Out of my way! Out of my way!" He directed his frustration at the townspeople bent on impeding his progress. He had one goal in mind, to get to his son.

It seemed like forever before he reached his coveted destination. The sight, which greeted him, stole his breath away, for what he thought had been utter chaos within the saloon short moments before was nothing compared to the calamity which now spread out in front of him.

Heavy, black smoke poured out of what had once been the livery stable's doorway, while a wall of flames quickly licked up the sides of the wooden tinder which had been the building's frame. The shrieking whinnies from the trapped and dying animals pierced the air adding to the chaotic shouts and movements of the townspeople and animals filling the square.

"My God, Joseph!" He cried out as his eyes searched frantically for some means to gain access into the burning inferno now in front of him. Finding none, he readied to charge ahead through the flaming doorway to find his missing son as a strong hand clamped firmly upon his forearm to impede any forward progress he hoped to make.

Like a mad man, he tried to break free from its restricting hold only to turn and find it was his eldest son, Adam, who held him back. Adam's face appeared almost as unhinged as own as the two acknowledged the devastation most likely laying ahead of them.

"Let me go, Adam!" He shouted desperately as the intensity of the growing fire reached forth trying to scorch them. "Your brother…Joe… He's inside of there!"

"No, Pa. No!" Was all that Adam could muster as he used all his might to hold his distraught father back from trying to confront the conflagration ahead of them, his own dark eyes watering now from the effects of the combined smoke and heat. Adam knew in his heart that no one could have possibly survived the blast and the accompanying fire which followed, not even his resilient younger brother.

"No, Pa don't!" He cautioned trying to drag his father further away from harm's way before uttering the unspeakable in a pain filled voice. "There is no way Joe could have survived such a blast!"

Ben Cartwright shook within in his eldest son's strong embrace as his grim words sunk in.

"No!" Ben Cartwright began to argue. "God, no…not my boy! Not my son!"

Suddenly the two were shoved aside as clearer heads began to take action. A bucket brigade had been assembled to try to prevent the wind from carrying the growing flames towards any nearby establishments and houses.

"Joe!" Ben Cartwright called out again in heartbreaking appeal as Adam dragged him further away from the fire's heat, but his distraught words were overshadowed as a shout rang out from behind them.

"Help! Help! Someone help me!"

Turning their attentions towards the undeniable appeal, they noticed for the first time the smoldering remains of one of the livery stable's doors lying many feet away. It must have been blown free of its hinges by the strength of the explosion to land at an awkward angle upon what appeared to be a pile of debris. But they were mistaken as the voice sounded out once again.

"There's someone trapped beneath it! Quick! Hurry! Someone help me! "

Adam and Ben moved towards the growing excitement. Only a hand and the hint of a slate blue sleeve shown from beneath the heavy piece of rubble causing hope to take hold in their hearts once more.

Pushing their way towards the growing circle forming around the scene, Ben finally caught sight of what had become of his second son, Hoss. The robust, young man had forced his way through the perimeter. Not allowing for any further time to elapse as the other men near his vicinity tried to come together and regroup while devising the best plan for removing the obstacle from atop its victim, Hoss barged ahead. Then taking hold of remnants of the stable door, he quickly removed its weight from atop what he believed to be his younger brother. "Hold on, Joe!" He called out.

"It's a boy! A boy!" Shouts burst forth from the surrounding circle as the twisted and mangled body of a young man in a ripped and bloodstained jacket and tan pants was revealed to them.

The stunned reaction from this gruesome revelation held the growing numbers of this crowd momentarily at bay, but one figure charged ahead, breaking though the assembled barrier to draw beside the young man still holding the door while he looked unsucessfully for some location in which to deposit it safely so he could focus his attentions back upon his little brother. "Pa? Adam? It's Little Joe!"

" I know, Hoss, I know!" Ben's frantic voice returned through the pandemonium when at last he reached the center of this formed ring, sinking down upon the ground beside his unmoving son. A shiver of fear raced through Ben Cartwright's heart as at last he took hold of the boy. "Joe?" He uttered. "Joe?" He exclaimed once more hoping, praying for some reaction from the lifeless child within his arms.

He had stared death in the face numerous times before, but it was same heart stopping fear that he had felt at Elizabeth's bedside, with Inger upon the way station floor, and when Joe's own mother, Marie, lay broken upon the ground, that seized his heart once again as he turned the limp body of his youngest over within his arms.

"Please, Joe," he whispered roughly as his lips lightly touched the soft, wavy hair upon the crown of the boy's head, "please be alright!" Then turning tearful eyes upward towards the heavens above him he mumbled a short prayer of distress. "Please, God, don't let my last words spoken to my son be those said in anger. Please don't take my boy away from me! Help him, God! Help me! "

_TBC_

**_Author's Closing Notes: I hoped the italics helped to make the flashback parts less confusing. I'm also hoping this isn't coming off as too OOC (Out of character). I've been a fan of the show for over 30 years. I will try to stay as true to the characters as best I can, but I am in no way an expert on the show. Also the reason behind the eagle and its symbolism within the story will be explained as the story unfolds. Until next time:)_**


	3. A Difficult Diagnosis

Chapter 3- A Difficult Diagnosis

**Author's Note: Thank you all for your many kind words. I apologize for the huge delay, but real life has kept me extremely busy. I had this week off, but my creativity lately hasn't been flowing. I did manage this chapter. I hope you enjoy it. I do plan on finishing this story. Much of it is mapped out in my head...well a sketchy map at least. :)**

It was the weight of his head dropping forward that startled Ben Cartwright from sleep's hypnotic call as the Ponderosa's patriarch righted himself quickly in the small, straight back chair he sat upon, but not before straining his neck muscles in the process. Reaching a weathered hand upward, he used it to try and soothe the painful kink, which had settled in his tired shoulders, while his bloodshot eyes did their best to readjust to the dim interior of the small room he now sat in. Through the gap in the dingy, white curtains covering the small paned window to his right, he noted the diminishing rays of sunlight filtering through as the approach of nightfall spread across the land calling an end to another long and unfulfilling day.

'Had he allowed to himself to succumb to sleep persistent claim for that long?' He mused wearily.

His last waking memory was that it had been nearing mid afternoon when he had last drew out his time piece from his vest pocket . Shaken by this unusual lapse in his ever mindful diligence, his dark eyes flew towards the large rod iron framed bed holding his youngest son.

Even in the long shadows of twilight, he could still make out Joe's unmoving figure upon the mattress. His heart sank as his mind acutely acknowledged once more there had been no change in the young boy's present condition. Yet, he would not allow his determination to falter as he slid the chair he was sitting in, which had been pushed back by his previous relaxed weight, closer towards his son's bed. Taking Joe's left hand within his own, he gave it a light squeeze as he acknowledged almost sheepishly, "Sorry son, I must have dozed off."

The seemingly sleeping youth made no response, but this did not stop his father from continuing on in conversation. "It's approaching suppertime. Mrs. Wilkes should be stopping over soon. Said she'd be making fried chicken tonight. One of your favorites. I'm sure she'll bring enough for two…She always does, and I don't mind sharing." Ben Cartwright went on until his usually steady and reassuring voice hitched as an all too familiar tightness claimed hold of his vocal chords once more.

Allowing this wavering emotion to pass, the white haired man continued further. "What do you say, Joseph? Would you like to share a meal with your pa? Come on, son. Wake up for me…." His father encouraged , while bringing the lifeless hand, he held, up towards his now quieted lips before caressing its back with a light kiss.

Joe, however, remained unwavering in his continued silence, as tears long thought to be shed threatened within his father's dark, brown eyes. Blinking them away, Ben placed Joe's still hand back down beside his son's unmoving frame. Absentmindedly , he smoothed the bed clothes beneath it before answering for himself. "That's okay, son. You just rest. There'll be time enough for eating when you're feeling up to it. Why I'll even give you free reign in letting Hop Sing know what we'll have for dinner for the next few months…" Ben Cartwright went on, even cracking a weak smile as he finished up with, "though of course your older brothers might grumble, 'specially Hoss."

Staring back towards his son's impassive face, Ben suddenly grew quiet, though the thoughts filling his head sped on in rapid pace. His tired eyes took in the remnants of many healing wounds still marring Joe's pale face along with the stark, white bandage surrounding the boy's forehead and covering much his son's wavy brown hair. His face then fell into a grimace of heartache.

Catching himself, he silently admonished himself for allowing this momentary lapse into despair. He would not look on the downside of things…He could not allow himself to dwell in the downside of this terrible tragedy. Though still unconscious, Joe had made great strides in the past two weeks since this fateful accident had befallen him.

_Ben Cartwright allowed his mind to travel back to the horrendous day when he had carried his son's broken and lifeless body through the chaotic crowds filling the smoke filled streets of Laurel_ _Springs_ _as he searched out the town doctor's office. Not that the man had been anywhere in sight when he first entered the empty building which housed his medical practice. Dr. Timmons, the only doctor within 50 miles, was out scouring the streets of Laurel Springs, seeking to help out those who were in need of medical care in the aftermath of this sudden explosion. _

_When at last Hoss and Adam had located him and had dragged him unwillingly away from a patient he had been finishing up with, he had at first protested against the hurried forcefulness these two young men had exerted towards him. With lightening speed and not conscious of his rising protests, they proceeded to escort the doctor back towards his office, and away from those who might have still been in need of his care . He finally understood the imperativeness of their rash actions when at last they arrived within his examining room. An injured youth, in tattered clothes and covered in blood, lay cradled within an older man's arms upon the cot by the far wall. The elderly physician immediately forgot his initial irritation as he instructed the older man where to place the ailing boy, while with a modicum of words exchanged, discovered what had happened to the lad. Then resuming his role as healer, he unceremoniously ushered out the youth's extremely worried family from the treatment room so he could begin to work._

_It was well over an hour later before the old sawbones withdrew himself from Joe's side to rejoin the boy's father and brothers in the outer waiting area taking in the looks of consternation which filled each of the elder Cartwright clan's drawn faces. Not one to be rushed, Dr. Timmon's gestured to Ben, Hoss, and Adam to take a seat before he went on in explanation. The former two complied with the old man's directive, but Adam felt himself much too on edge to sit down, so he remained standing beside his father as his strong hands gripped the hard wood chair back Ben was sitting upon. _

_Taking a long, steadying breath, Harold Timmons began in speech. "I won't lie to you, Mr. Cartwright. Your son, Joseph, is hurt bad. Real bad. Removing the many shards of wood alone embedded in the boy's face, chest, head and neck from the explosion…. " The elderly physician continued only to let his voice trail off. " Well , I've patched him up as best I could…" The doctor stated before his voice faltered once more._

"_But?"_ _Adam interjected tersely._

_Eying warily the dark haired, similarly dressed intense young man before responding again, Dr. Timmons conceded finally while shaking his head. "But I'm not sure what good it will do him." _

"_What do you mean?" Ben's tremulous voice inquired. _

"_What I'm saying," the physician answered as his frank gray eyes looked from one family member to the next, "is the boy has suffered from grievous injuries this day. He was tossed a great distance by the strength of the blast. There's no telling what internal damage he could be suffering from…"_

"_But we'll deal with such injuries when and if they arise." Ben cut him off in clipped response. "Look, Dr. Timmons, you don't know my son, Joe. He's an ornery boy…resilient."_

_The doctor's previous no nonsense attitude was suddenly overshadowed by the first glimpses of empathy as he noted the consolidated effort at denial, which had staked a relentless claim, within the three Cartwright men facing him. It was his turn now to tear down this protective stance they had painstakingly sought to erect in the hopes of keeping the cherished youngest member of their family safe from further misfortune. And though he had spent numerous years practicing medicine first in the East before moving out to this rugged territory, it never grew easier having to relay such news to anxiously awaiting family members. _

"_Aye…" He began more soothingly. "By looking at his father and brothers, I have no doubt that young Joseph has been blessed with resiliency. But, I cannot lie to you, Mr. Cartwright. When Joseph was thrown in the blast, he suffered a grave head injury. Whether, it was from the initial blast or his impact with the ground, I'm not sure. The symptoms, he's exhibiting, do not lie to me. There is blood in his left ear canal and the pupil of his left eye is unresponsive to light. I cannot detect any depression in his skull, but I don't hold out much hope for your son to ever regain consciousness."_

"_But doc…" Hoss started out in protest before his father cut in._

"_Are you sure, doctor?" He inquired disbelievingly._

_The old man only nodded roughly before he went on. "I've dealt with head injuries in the past. They are very unpredictable, but most of them have resulted in death. _

"_How…how long?"_ _Ben Cartwright asked, visibly shaken by the physician's dire diagnosis for his youngest child._

"_There's no telling…" Dr. Timmons continued somberly. "In most cases I've encountered or have read about in my journals , an impact to the skull causes the brain tissue to swell. This will usually lead to seizures due to pressure on the brain…. There might be additional bleeding from any of the cranial cavities – ears, eyes, nose, mouth, but it's the effect to the patient's breathing that ultimately brings about death. Could be anywhere from a few hours, to a few days to possibly, though unlikely , even a few weeks…"_

"_How will we know?" Adam questioned remotely from behind his father , his dark, enigmatic eyes now rimmed red from his time spent near the smokey blaze and from the strain of this past hour staring intently within this dimly lit waiting area towards the door to the room which held his seriously injured youngest sibling._

"_As I said before, there is no way of knowing, young man. It's in God's hands now," the doctor answered._

"_Well if there is no way of knowing," Hoss cut in, "then there is no way of telling for sure that my little brother is going to die from this! "_

"_The likelihood of your brother succumbing to his injuries is great…"_

"_Yes, but you don't know that for sure, doc. Ain't that right? There is still hope that Little Joe might survive!"_

"_There is always hope, but don't let yourself be fooled…" Dr. Timmons continued gravely before Hoss interrupted him again. _

"_Well then, that's what I'm going to hold onto! Hope, doctor and the belief that my little brother can lick this! I'm usually not a gambling person , Dr. Timmon's, but I'd stake my life on Little Joe beating the odds. You don't know him like I do!"_

"_No, you're right, young man. I don't know him as well as you do. Perhaps what you say will prove true, but I don't want to give you any false sense of security…"_

"_No offense, but you ain't giving me anything, doctor. I'll hold onto my hope for myself, my Pa and my brother Adam here, and of course, Little Joe."_

"_From your words, to God's ears."_ _The physician replied with some hesitancy. _

"_Yes!' Ben Cartwright seemed to mumble as if at last the patriarch of this determined family had broken away from the terrible shock that had just been dealt to him and had reawakened to the conversation taking place around him. Speaking up, he turned to the doctor before stating emphatically. "I'd like to see my son!"_

Two weeks had passed since that anxious proclamation had taken place, but Joe had proven his brother Hoss correct. Though the young man had yet to awaken, Ben Cartwright was not about to give up upon his youngest as he reckoned that day still lay ahead of them in Joe's long road to recovery.

'Hadn't Joe, himself, relayed to him in the hours preceding his fateful accident that Ben could always count upon him?'

Ben Cartwright hadn't given up upon that thought, and he wasn't about to now. It's what kept him going in the face of this adversity that had been thrust upon his family. Looking up from his son's still body towards one of the eagles, which adorned each of the posts of the headboard and footboard of the bed Joe now lay in, his face held the same steely determination which some unknown iron caster had molded into the winged creature's eyes staring back at him.

**TBC**

**Edited 4/23-Made some minor changes over the past few days- mostly better word choices and hopefully more clarification in some parts, but I have not altered the main storyline. It's a habit with me. I like to tweak. :)**


	4. Loving Sacrifice

**Author's Note: Thank you once again for your kind words. I hope you enjoy chapter 4. :)**

Chapter 4- Loving Sacrifice

The elderly, not so nimble physician did his best to juggle his black, medical bag along with the carved wooden case, which held his prize ivory chess set, as he climbed the long, narrow staircase leading towards room 204 at Sadie Wilke's boarding house. The game had seen little use in recent years, but he had found a worthy opponent in Benjamin Cartwright. Granted, Dr. Timmons had won every match to date against the senior Cartwright, but then again he held an unfair advantage. The other man's mind was not completely focused upon the matches they played. Through their nightly tournaments Ben Cartwright pretended to be intent upon the game before him, but he could not easily fool the experienced doctor. For a part of him, a large part, remained preoccupied with the injured boy laying in the bed beside them.

At first, Harold Timmons had brought out this little used possession as a means to distract the father's worry away from his son, if only for a little while. Ben Cartwright's attentions had been so focused upon Joseph's injuries, that he had little time to think of anything else besides eating and sleeping, and the former only because Sadie provided him with three, square meals a day. With the latter matter of concern, again the solemn man could not fool the gray haired doctor. The telltale dark circles surrounding his blood shot, brown eyes spoke volumes of how little sleep the elder Cartwright was getting, causing the doctor to worry about more than just his young patient's predicament.

A man could push himself towards the limits of his endurance for a few days without risk of any serious consequences coming back to haunt him, but it was nearing two weeks now since the day of the livery stable explosion. During that time, Harold Timmons found himself becoming increasingly familiar with the ways of the Cartwright family. It was not unusual for a doctor to become aware of a patient and their family's history during a prolonged illness, though not due to any eavesdropping on his part- at least not intentionally. No, a physician's eyes and ears were always opened to all the suffering, which took place around of him, though some injuries were less apparent to the well trained eye and definitely harder to heal.

Many a time during these past two weeks, Dr. Harold Timmons had become privy to this same exact torment which afflicted his patient's father and his two older brothers. Through the long years of his dedicated practice, he had witnessed both pain and suffering bring out the best and worst in families. Many had been drawn together in times of crisis, whereas in others, such calamities had proven to be the final straw towards breaking them apart. Usually, a death or permanent disability preceded the latter outcome. The good doctor couldn't decipher yet where the Cartwrights stood in all this as the youngest member of their family clung to life.

In the beginning, there had been a united front perhaps based on their combined efforts at denial that their brother and son would succumb to his injuries. But, as the days dragged onward with no notable change taking place in young Joseph's condition, perhaps fine cracks had begun to weaken the base of their once strong solidarity.

The experienced doctor remembered coming upon the two older sons arguing with each other one particular nightfall shortly after Joseph had been moved from the cramp confines of his office to the more suitable accommodations offered by the boarding house. There was no more the doctor could do for the child, other then what had already been done, though he continued to visit the boy twice daily. Dr. Timmons could not hide his surprise that Joseph had lasted for as long as he had, especially with the injuries he had sustained in the accident and his continued lack of proper nourishment since he had entered into this coma like state. The boy's family continued the day to day management, however, needed to keep their loved one alive, but the grueling price was beginning to take a heavy toll upon them.

_As he thought back again, he remembered coming upon Adam and Hoss near the top of the boarding house stairs strategically out of earshot of their youngest brother's room. They were involved in a heated exchange. The volume of which was growing by the minute. _

_"How can you even think of wanting to return home, Adam? You know Joe is not capable of being moved such a distance!"_

_"How can I not?" His dark haired brother retorted immediately. _

_"You ain't giving up on him, are you?" Hoss challenged, rising disbelief becoming increasingly apparent in the depths of his blue eyes. "Cause, I sure as hell ain't. I can't believe you're even suggesting doing this. What about Pa? He needs us here. What if Joe was to …" Hoss's emotionally charged speech faltered for he could not put to voice the words needed to complete such a devastating statement._

_"Look, it's not what you think, Hoss." Adam countered, as he drew a long, steadying breath before going on. "I'm not giving up on Joe. It's just…the Ponderosa won't run by itself. We've neglected it far too long now…first with the cattle drive and now this… Someone has to go back and look after our interests. Pa would…"_

_"Pa would want you to stay put!" Hoss cut in vehemently. "He needs us here. So does Joe! I can't believe you're even thinking about land and money at a time like this. What about our brother, Adam? You should be thinking about him. I thought blood meant more to you, than cold, hard cash!"_

_For a brief second, a barely distinguishable flash of hurt and resentment nearly upset Adam Cartwright's almost unflappable disposition as his hands tightened into fists at his sides. Never in anger had he raised a hand towards his younger brother. Standing before him was the boy, whom he had lent a major hand in helping his father to raise, even giving up some of his own childhood in the process- sweet, motherless baby Eric, whom he had rechristened with the unique name Inger's brother, Uncle Gunnar, had told him about before he, his pa, and his new ma set out to continue Ben's journey westward. The burning sensation of tears lurked behind Adam's blazing, dark eyes, while he fought back any lingering agitation. Unclenching his fists then jaw, he swallowed back the bitter sting of words he knew if spoken would be near impossible to take back. He was a man, who barely lost control of his emotions, but he had come close in the moments preceding…so close. Then answering in an almost deflated whisper, he finally rasped, "It's Joe, I am thinking about, and, you and Pa as well, brother. I want the Ponderosa to be there for him, running efficiently in all her glory for when Joe returns. It's his birthright as well as ours, and I'll be damned if I let it get run into the ground due to neglect and misappropriation. Joe wouldn't want that. He loves the land as much as you, Pa and I do."_

_"But how can you think of leaving now?" Hoss almost pleaded his previous anger forgotten as well. _

_"My hands are tied here." Adam replied now visibly shaken. "There is nothing I can do for Joe that hasn't already been done. I'm useless and it's killing me…waiting and watching as the flame which ignites our little brother's life diminishes slowly before my eyes…If I could be doing something productive…helping out the family…"_

_"I can't…" Hoss began to respond in torment before Adam cut him off._

_"I'm not asking you to go…."_

_But later on, when his eldest son broached the subject of returning home alone to care for their ranch, Ben would not hear of it. A man setting off by himself across such unforgiving and rugged territory was unthinkable, especially when other options lay before him. Then turning towards his middle son, their father appealed. "It's best that you go with your brother, Hoss. Adam's right. Someone should be at home taking care of the Ponderosa."_

_"No, pa!"_ _Adam immediately interjected in an attempt to dissuade him, for it was never his intent to let the burden of Joe's condition and care fall solely upon his father's shoulders._

_Hoss spoke up too, as he retorted in dismay, "But Joe…I can't, pa."_

_Turning sad eyes towards his silent youngest, Ben longed for Joe to voice his opposition at the possibility of being left behind. The wavy haired youth had always been the most vocal of his three sons, especially when it had come to voicing his displeasure in matters. How eerily stifling the now silent boarding house room suddenly felt before Ben turned towards Hoss and Adam again. _

_"Joe and I will return as soon as we can." He replied resolutely. And, when it looked as if his two other sons would speak up in protest, Ben beat them to the chase while clasping his work worn hands upon their broad shoulders before gathering them towards him as if in need of the sustenance that only loved ones could provide him with at such a moment . "Don't worry, boys. I'll be bringing your brother home. That's a promise!"_

_"We're counting on that, Pa." Hoss's emotionally charged voice answered in resignation while Adam could only look on in regret. _

Days later as Harold Timmons continued upon the path towards Joseph Cartwright's room, he now understood the sacrifice their father had taken upon himself. Surely this great man must have cared about the vast spread of land he worked hard to carve out of the Nevada territory as well as the continued safety of his two remaining boys. But Ben Cartwright had done something much nobler than the doctor had at first realized. The father had released his two sons from the burden of pain and anguish of having to watch their youngest brother continue to deteriorate before their eyes.

Shaking his head sadly, he had finally come to the realization that this travesty , which had befallen the Cartwrights, had not broken this proud family's spirit, but that a father's love for his sons- all three- had sought to protect them as best as he knew how to.


	5. Resignation and Hope

**Chapter 5- Resignation and Hope**

Having moved the small side table, which doubled as a dining and gaming table, back beside the wall, Ben Cartwright carefully positioned one sturdy matching chair next to it before sliding its partner to its accustomed place at Joe's bedside. During this nightly ritual, the white curtains, covering the room's sole window, billowed more significantly before kicking out roughly as a strong breeze outside picked up, inviting itself into the second floor boarding house bedroom without greeting. Its strengthening gust caused the small lighted oil lamp's flame within the room to flicker then dance wildly as it became in danger of being extinguished. Moving closer to the window, Ben looked out through the dirt streaked panes before struggling to adjust the stubborn sash. Not a star filled the sky above as a heavy blanket of clouds descended over the small desert oasis town of Laurel Springs. But still the night sky was intermittently cast alight by a spectacular display of heat lightning which flashed across the heavens followed by low rolls of thunder still some ways off in the distance. Dismissing the promise of this grand display before him, the gray haired patriarch returned to the task at hand as he put the last of the room about him back in order.

'In order…..' Finally taking a seat, his strong body relaxed into the oak chair beneath him while his erect shoulders drooped as if suddenly succumbing to the emotional demands placed upon him within the room.

It was silly, he reckoned, that the room had to be put back into place just so before he could resume his familiar vigil at his son's bedside, but in a way it was the only bit of control that he had left over this whole, miserable situation. Everything else had been taken out of his hands…He felt helpless in fact, and he didn't like it, though he was never one to shirk being at the mercy of an almighty and loving God. He had considered himself a good, God fearing man, who attended church regularly while in Virginia City and had brought his sons up right to follow the prescripts that God had handed down to Moses while on Mt. Sinai. But still as the days passed by without any notable change in his youngest son's present condition, Ben Cartwright found himself beginning to doubt his belief in a just and loving Lord. He even found the makings of anger filling his soul as his almost ceaseless supplications for Joe's recovery went unanswered by the almighty Being he prayed to.

'Why Joe? Why now? His son was too young to die…Didn't God realize this?…'

'Of course Elizabeth, Inger, and Marie had all been too young when the good Lord saw fit to call them homeward, but he had been able, with much time, to make his amends with his heavenly Father.'

'Many women died during childbirth' he rationalized, 'though this fact had made his first wife's passing none the easier to accept. But in time, with a young son to raise and the ambition to seek a life out West for them, he was able to push the most damning effects of its lingering heartache into the far recesses of his mind, though his love for his Liz would always remain alive within his heart and through the child they had created together. '

'Inger….,' his thoughts moved rapidly forward. 'His rock and strength, so much like the son they had birthed together. He was devastated by her violent and senseless death, but by then he had two sons to raise alone. The barren wasteland surrounding the way station, which now marked her final resting place, had been devoid of the life their move westward had promised them. What was he to do? Stay put and shrivel up and die along with his young sons while he mourned for the wife taken from him? No, he was forced to move onward…if only at first for the sake of the boys and Inger. He could still see the sparkle lighting up her lovely blue eyes thinking of the endless possibilities a life out West could open up to their growing young family. He had not only lost his loving wife, but in losing Inger, he had lost his friend and confidante as well….Only the task of carving out a life for himself and his young sons when at last they reached the Nevada lands that would one day become the Ponderosa had kept him on an even keel and busy enough to relegate thoughts of his big hearted, and always optimistic second wife to the recesses of his memories except during the those troubling hours between sleep and wakefulness as he laid alone in his bed.

"Marie"… He uttered the name of his third wife and Joe's mother's aloud. "Though as devastating as the previous two, his third's wife's death made the most sense when the heartache became bearable enough that he was able to look back upon it in retrospect. Marie, of all his wives, had lived life to its fullest…never accepting compromise or backing down even in the face of adversity, especially during the ruinous scandal which had surrounded the death of her first husband and infant son. Though sharp as a tack and as tough as nails, Marie had a vulnerable side as well, much like their natural son, which she allowed few to see. He had caught a glimpse of it in New Orleans while defending her honor before goading her to care…to live again…to move on with her life and join him in his life on the Ponderosa. It was with Marie that he had enjoyed the most years of his life as a married man. She took on the responsibility of becoming a mother to his sons , Adam and Hoss, without reservation, and she finally made the up and coming Ponderosa at last feel like a home. With God's grace, they were granted a third child with the birth of their son, Joseph….'

"Joseph," he breathed, thinking now of the comatose boy who lay in front of him. 'Marie's passing was just as hard to bear as the death of his previous two wives, but once again everyday life had come forward, forcing him to move onward…with now three sons to care for and an expanding ranch to manage with its ever demanding upkeep. Three sons…not two…Could he recover if such a fate were to happen once again ?… Could force himself to move forward once more, pushing aside the dictates of his heart if Joe should die ? He wasn't sure if he possessed the strength to face death's cruel sting upon his life again …'

The threat of tears glistened in Ben Cartwright's brown eyes. 'The prior deaths of his three beloved wives had been catastrophic, but when each had died their own terrible death, he was assured that each of his wives had known of his deep and abiding love for them…had carried that knowledge with them to their graves…and perhaps this had made their parting easier as they traveled before him into the afterlife.'

'But what of Joseph? Did his son know how much he loved him? How much he esteemed him? What of the harsh words he had last spoken to his youngest before his accident? Were they to be his lasting impression upon his son? Would this be what Joe carried with him as the heavenly Father called him homeward?"

Ben's hands tightened in fist of self recrimination as he brought them helplessly down upon his lap. 'How could he let Joe go without his son knowing of the love he had for him or the pride he held for him? No…NO! This was unfair! God could not take his boy from him! Not yet! He wasn't ready! He needed more time with his son! More time to make Joseph understand the precious gift he had been given, and not to let a misunderstanding squander what truly was in his heart for his boy.'

"God, are you listening?" Ben called out plaintively, before pleading humbly to his Maker, "Please don't take Joseph away from me. I need him…I need for him to know how much I love him… That I need him…I need him to forgive me for the words I spoke in haste… It is not his time…. He's too young…. A father is not supposed to outlive his child…. Please, God, hear me…answer my prayers! Let him come back to me! I'll do anything…anything…if you just let me have my son back with me…"

The dim room remained silent about him, devoid of any answering response to his desperate words except for the brewing storm outside and the beginning pattering of rain upon the boarding house window.

Similar moisture now fell from Ben Cartwright's eyes as well. He could not let Joe go… Not without his son knowing how he truly felt about him.

Harold Timmon's had tried to reassure him on his frequent visits…had in fact even encouraged him to continue speaking to his unconscious son… The elderly doctor, who had become his sole friend in this God forsaken town, had told him of his belief that even though comatose, it was thought that unconscious patients could still hear the conversations and take in the activity within the room surrounding them.

Sensing the other man's grief and need, the doctor pushed Ben to continue his conversations with his young son, even if they were only one sided. 'What harm could they do anyway?' the ever practical doctor reasoned. 'Even if Joseph was oblivious to his father's spoken discourses, it provided an outlet for the elder Cartwright to unburden his grief…and yes…perhaps even some of the guilt that the doctor suspected he might hold over his child's present predicament.

And talk to his son Ben Cartwright did, throughout the long, drawn out hours of daylight where his only response was the incessant ticking from the wall clock behind him, and well into the shadows of night fall when his voice grew hoarse from his ever increasing monologues with his third born child. At first, he relayed to his youngest the every day events happening about them, but when that grew hackneyed, he began talking to the boy about his own life - when he was a child out East, his years as a struggling apprentice, his life at sea. He spoke to Joseph about the dreams he held for his life, his fears, his ambitions, his joys and disappointments. Never had he felt the ease to speak with such candor to anyone about such matters… to expose himself so openly . And when he found such antidotes would not come with ease, he'd then pick up a book from the pile Harold had lent to him, and he would read to Joe about the life flourishing within their ivory pages, hoping one such adventure might reach out to his son and pique his curiosity sparking him to sit up and ask for more details. Until finally, he allowed Joe to become privy to what was most sacrosanct within his life- his personal conversations with God.

Forlornly, Ben Cartwright continued sitting within the maddening quiet of the room surrounding him as he reached forward to take one of his son's lifeless hands within his own. Squeezing it within his warmth, he wished woefully that he could transfer the life which traveled within his own veins into the vulnerable flesh of his son's… If only he could give life to his son again…. He'd gladly make such a bargain- trade his life for Joe's, but such decisions were not for his making.

Looking sadly back at his son, he remembered Harold's words about what would most likely become of Joe's now ebbing life. Though the task of doing so had nearly ripped his heart out, Ben Cartwright at last put voice to the realistic fears that had consumed his thoughts. He had been afraid speak them aloud earlier…not wanting to admit defeat, but he had to know…He had to know for his own sanity what Joe might be facing ahead of him. If it was God's choice not to give his son back to him, then he must be there for Joe to help him face his final moments.

_He remembered Harold Timmons being a little taken back by his uncharacteristic inquiry, while the doctor's aging grey eyes stared back at him warily over the chessboard between them feeling the other man out before choosing his words wisely. Of course, he spoke with candor, he always did. He was never one to mince words, especially with the family of one of his patients. He was never one to give false hope where it didn't belong. _

_Taking a long steadying breath, Dr. Timmon's at last gave answer to the man sitting across from him. A man who had gained his unfailing respect in the short time that he had come to know him. "To tell the truth Ben, I don't know… I can't say for sure what Joe's last hours will be like…The boy's got a much stronger constitution than I first gave him credit for when you and your sons brought him into my office on that grievous day of the explosion… That day, his injuries being so severe, I didn't think he'd last the night…But the lad has proven me wrong in spades…_

_Honestly, it's surprises me that he's held on for as long as he has…A fierce heart beats within that young man's breast…but looking at his father, I can see that he comes by such solid determination naturally…But..."_

_Ben braced himself with the doctor's final word, as he readied himself for the rest of this man's truthful response. _

_"I'll not be lying to you, Ben… I have yet to see a patient come out of the dire circumstance that young Joseph now finds himself in…If he were to regain consciousness weeks ago…in the days following his tragic accident, but the human body is a mysterious thing…It's not that such incidents haven't had precedent…Some cases have even been recorded in the medical annals, but such cases have been few and far between, and when indeed such a miraculous event has occurred …well we won't go into the particulars of those repercussions right now…" The doctor finished before redirecting his thoughts back towards what had been initially inquired of him, "The likelihood of Jospeh coming out of his comatose state becomes less and less with each passing day. With the events of his initial accident not claiming his life, the chances are he will most likely succumb to the secondary effects still facing him… continued lack of proper nourishment, pneumonia, infection, atrophy or organ failure to name a few…I can't give you a time table…" The physician abruptly halted the flow of his words as he watched startled indignation rise within his companion's previously downcast brown eyes, and the doctor realized the poor choice he had made with his final words._

_Taking a step back to reevaluate his stance, the Doctor cleared his throat before moving onward. "I can't really say what Joe's last days will be like Ben or how long it will take, but I can tell you I'll be here with you to face them, whatever may come."_

_Quickly indignation turned to regret as grief filled Ben Cartwright's brown eyes again, the Ponderosa patriarch not bothering to mask his emotions from the man, whom he now thought of as a friend._

_"Thank you, Harold." He replied tightly as his unsteady focus sought outlet in the game board still between them. Moving a fumbling hand forward, he took hold awkwardly of one of his pawns. Staring for long moments blankly at the playing field in front of him, he dropped the piece back down into its previous position without making any further move. "Forgive me, Harold," he began gruffly, …but I've lost interest in the game…Would you mind if we call it a night? I'd gladly claim a forfeit…"_

_Nodding understandably, the gray haired doctor could only comply with the other man's wishes while he hesitated to respond. "Ben, why don't you wire your boys?…Have them return to Laurel Springs…You need them…"_

_Standing up abruptly, Ben hurriedly turned his back towards the man and the suggestion he was making. Straightening stiffly as he attempted to regain a modicum of his composure, he at last answered, "No…I can't…I won't let them…"_

_"But he's their brother…surely they should be here when Joe…if Joe…"_

_"No!" Ben answered tersely while sweeping a shaking hand through the graying hair atop his head. "I won't put them through that…and if it is to happen…well I'll deal with it then…I'll make it right for them…I'll help them to get through it..."_

_Turning then to see the lingering doubt and concern in Harold Timmon's eyes, Ben added. "I can't put them through that, Harold…It would kill them to watch their brother die such a slow and senseless death… Damn that man! Damn Wyatt Renner! Who in their right mind would store kerosene so close to a source of combustion? May his soul rot in hell for the pain he's caused my son and my family!…"_

_"Ben…" Harold interceded quickly, affected by this volatile turn in Ben Cartwright's usually checked emotion. "Let it go, Ben…" he cautioned. " It will do Joseph no good. Don't let these last days with your son be consumed with anger towards someone who is no longer around to defend his foolish actions…."_

'Consumed by anger? Was he?' Ben considered as his thoughts returned to the present. Had he allowed himself to backslide again towards such a useless emotion? But instead of it being directed towards Wyatt Renner, the careless livery stable owner, he was now directing these lingering emotions towards God for not answering his continuous prayers...'

"Joseph…" He began regretfully as he turned his attention towards his pale, unmoving son, only to have his words abruptly cut off as the dim room around him became illuminated by a commanding flash of lightning before mere seconds later it was followed by a powerful boom of thunder which shook the boarding house down to its very foundation. This startling interruption sparked Ben to abandon his chair momentarily as he quickly flew towards the window to see what precipitated this tremendous event only to be rivaled in part weeks earlier by the man made castastrophe that now threatened to prematurely claim his son's life.. While in contemplative thought, the powerful storm, which had been brewing in the distance, must have converged upon this small town, leaving all within its wake in awe of the majesty behind it. Within seconds, the room around him settled back towards its quiet norm, but a pensive nature still filled the atmosphere surrounding him, as if it lay in wait of a repeat performance. But instead of another commanding display from the heavens above him, it was a weak and plaintive moan, which echoed from behind him, that shook Ben Cartwright to his boots.

TBC

_**A/N Thank you for all your wonderful responses towards this story. There is still much more of it to come. So don't think we've reached the end just yet. There is a hint planted in this chapter concerning the future of Joe's well being in the middle of Ben's conversation with Harold. Until next time, which hopefully will be sooner rather than later. I promised myself if I didn't have chapter 5 written and posted by the time the story count reached a certain mark that I'd kick myself in the butt to get a new chapter written. Well it reached that point, and I wrote chapter 5. My apologies for the very long delay. Now I need to write a new chapter for my other account. :)**_


	6. Enough for Now

**Chapter 6- Enough for Now...**

Ben Cartwright stared down at the telegraph message he held within his hand, chewing anxiously against the bottom corner of his lip as he began to reread its enthusiastic content for a second time, while troubling guilt took a further hold upon his conscience.

_Wonderful news/_ **Stop/ **_Will relay to Hoss/ _**Stop/ **_When will you be returning home?/ **Stop/ **With winter's approach, the weather might turn bad./ _**Stop**_/ Give Joe our best/ _**Stop/ **_Adam_

He had not meant to deceive his two elder sons when he relayed to them at last the news of their brother's awakening, but all was not as rosy as the wired announcement had led them to believe. No, he could not go into detail through an impersonal telegraph the lingering effects caused by Joe's injuries.

Ben wished he could share the wholeheartedness that sprang forth from the sheet of paper now in front of him, but he was privy to knowledge that Adam and Hoss were not. That Joe's reawakening had been anything but peaceful. No, he shook his head sadly. The continued seriousness of his youngest son's condition would have to be conveyed within the pages of a private letter, which he would send to them later down the road. But for now, it would be enough for them to know that their brother had been returned to them.

'Returned?...Yes, his son had been returned to him so to speak… Shouldn't that be enough? What had he expected? That the boy would be whole again and as good as new like he had been before the accident…as if it had never happened? No, the explosion had happened, and it had nearly killed Joseph. It was unreasonable to expect that his son would remain the same in its aftermath, but in his heart of hearts he had hoped for such an end result to have taken place. He had dreamed of Joe's reawakening and of life continuing on for them as it had done before. But that dream was to be shattered, much like the remnants of the livery stable door that had been blown off its hinges by the force of the ignited kerosene before taking what had been of his son's previous life with it.'

Looking skyward towards the cloud strewn heavens, his dark eyes squinted in the brightness of the mid morning's sun, while he placed the now refolded telegram into his vest pocket. 'No, God.' He apologized humbly in his thoughts for his prior ungratefulness. 'No, to have Joseph back with him was enough. He would get through the rest. That Joseph was alive was all that was important.'

"Be with my son, Lord,…" He uttered almost ashamedly thinking back towards his previous anger at his Creator while continuing to make his way down the dusty, rut covered street which led towards the town's sole boarding house, "for he's still in need of your care… Help him…And help me…help me to sort through this…And allow Joseph…" His quiet words stumbled as he struggled to continue his heartfelt appeal.

'Allow Joseph what? Allow him to return the bright eyed, enthusiastic boy he had been before they had left on this cattle drive? Why had his mind's eye sought that particular frame of reference instead of the moments preceding the explosion? Perhaps because,' he shook his head sadly, 'it was not only the explosion, which had driven Joseph away from him, but his own words of anger as well…' Exhaling a long pent up breath, he pushed himself to remember the moments before such callous words had left his lips.

_' They were herding the cattle along the flats during the last phase of their drive. Their destination, market, was but hours away. The air around him was thick with anticipation along with the heavy dust kicked up by the pounding of hundreds of hooves upon the good earth. Though fraught with problems, another drive would soon be over, and they'd be heading back towards the comforts of the Ponderosa. A hint of satisfaction tried to take root within his breast, but it was tempered by the unforeseen complications they had encountered along the way, especially with the sudden, tragic deaths of Pete and Sam. How could he feel even the slightest success in this journey, when the weight of such a loss hung over him like a dark cloud? It was with these thoughts a buzz that he had rode up to his youngest son on that final morning.'_

Breaking from these thoughts abruptly, Ben inhaled sharply before once again hearkening back his recollection of Joe on that fateful day to the forefront of his memory.

_Even upon moving horseback, the boy's gaze had been turned intently skyward, and not for just a brief second. _

Suddenly the impact of his son's recklessness returned to startle him. Not only had Joseph not been keeping his eyes upon the moving cattle around him, but he was putting his own continued safety in jeopardy as well by his foolish inattention. How many times had he or the boy's brothers in the past lectured his son on the importance of keeping his thoughts grounded, especially while in the thick of things? And there was Joe allowing such sound reasoning drop to the wayside while he became caught up in the moment of the day surrounding him.

_The troubling thoughts that had been simmering within him immediately boiled over at that point as he urged the horse beneath him to pick up speed while galloping towards his son. __As he drew closer, Joe's celestial gaze turned earthbound once more. His face still dazzled with momentary brilliancy; his green eyes aglow with wonder. Releasing his right hand from the loosely held reins within them, he moved it forward to point towards something heavenly, as the making of a smile played upon his lips before he attempted to speak. But he had not allowed his son the chance to utter his thoughts, for it was he who had spoken first. _

Ben lowered his head shamefully while bringing a clenched fist forward to rest against his furrowed brow as he squeezed his eyes shut in a futile attempt to block the succeeding image from playing back once again in his memory. If only he could take back the harsh words that had sprung from his lips that day, remembering how his potent response had effectively killed the enthusiastic smile that had promised to spread across his son's expressive face. Hindsight was a great educator, but it did little to rectify past wrongs already done.

Biting back the bitter taste of regret, Ben redirected his attentions towards the here and now. The boarding house stood just across the way from him. Since the time of Joe's accident, he had spent precious, little time away from his son's side. He had instructed Sadie, earlier that morning that he'd be just a short while carrying out his much needed errands, remembering how the boarding house's owner had readily agreed to keep a watchful eye over his resting son. Hurriedly, however, he crossed the remaining distance between himself and the boy, wanting to be with Joe before he reawakened within their room, hoping, praying this time for some spark of recognition to alight upon the boy's fair face and replace the troubling, vacant stare that had been returned to him since Joseph's arousal from his coma short days earlier.

**A/N: Sorry, I know this is not much after the long break between posting chapters. Next chapter should include more Joe and Ben, but I needed to set this up before I could go on further. Thank you for the continued interest in the story. I promised myself, I'd get another chapter out before the story count reached a certain point and that number was looming over me. :) Until next time...**


	7. The Prisoner Within

**Chapter 7- The Prisoner Within**

**Posted 4/15/07**

The steady click of knitting needles greeted Benjamin Cartwright as he reentered the room he shared with his son. With his entrance, Sadie Wilkes looked up at him while finishing her latest stitch.

"Did he stir?" Ben inquired anxiously while watching the boarding house owner gather her work within her lap before standing to smooth her black skirt.

"No, he's been asleep ever since you left, Mr. Cartwright," She smiled. "Not a peep from him . . . " She finished on a rather awkward note as if suddenly realizing her poor choice of words considering the boy's current state.

Ben smiled weakly at her response before putting to voice more adequately his appreciation for her help this day. "Thank you, Mrs. Wilkes. I was able to get my errands done."

"Not a problem, Mr. Cartwright. You put me out none. I'd just be doing in my sitting room, what I've been doing up here, my knitting." She answered cheerfully while moving toward the doorway. Then looking back at Joseph, she added in afterthought, "He looks so peaceful sleeping there. Thank goodness, it seems it'll be one of them times when he'll be spared one of them awful awakenings he's been having. Not that they bother me, mind you . . . The poor thing . . . It's just that a soul can't help but feel for him when you hear him struggle and cry out as he does . . . But that's all, . . . right? Doesn't say a word more, does he? Not that I'm prying, mind you. My heart goes out to you, Mr. Cartwright . . . you and the boy. Why it's a terrible shame, I tell you . . . He's such a fine-looking chap . . . and the thought of him never being right again . . . "

Sadie Wilke's voice trailed off in her proffered condolences as she noted the heightened tension her words seemed to be creating in Ben Cartwright's present demeanor. She then hastily decided to carry on in a different vein to appease any stress she may have caused by speaking her inward thoughts so openly. "It just isn't right. But it's not ours to question God's will, is it? He works in mysterious ways . . . still that don't make things any easier... Well, just so you know, Mr. Cartwright, I'm keeping you in my prayers . . ."

"Thank you, Mrs. Wilkes" Ben muttered softly, deciding to take the high road though the woman's earlier words still bristled inside of him.

'_But what had she said, that hadn't already played out in his own, fearful mind_?'

"Well, if you excuse me," Mrs. Wilkes began as if taking a cue from Ben's continued silence in the matter, "I'd best be going. I'll bring a tray up to you around 6:00. We're having stew tonight."

"Thank you," was all Ben could muster as he watched the gray-haired woman exit the room, closing the door behind her.

He stood a few seconds, staring at the dark paneled oak of the now shut entryway beside him, as if seeking to borrow a modicum of composure from its sure solidness before turning back toward his son once more. Slowly, he did, making his way quietly toward the bed, holding the boy, heedful of Joseph's restful state as he lowered his weight carefully down upon the mattress to sit beside him. Longingly, he gazed down at his son while he continued to slumber beneath the blue coverlet before tentatively venturing to reach a hand out to brush back the wavy sweep of hair which fell across his brow. The palm of his hand lingered against the softness of his son's locks, feeling the natural warmth of the boy's flesh beneath it. He knew he should draw his hand back for fear of waking Joe, but he was greedy. These quiet moments of virtual normalcy were so few and far between. Moments in which he could deceive himself into thinking that his son was just resting, like any other boy his age might be doing after a long day's chores or play... such as bygone nights within their home when he would come upon Joe in his room . . . a school book and tablet scattered upon his bed beside him where he had fallen asleep doing his homework . . . or perhaps on an early morn, when he'd entered his sleepyhead son's bedroom to wake him for the day ahead. Joe was never one to take kindly to greeting the sun's breaking rays . . .

"Silly, old fool . . . " He chided himself while drawing his hand away quickly as he felt Joe begin to stir beneath his lingering touch. The boy, however, only shifted in his sleep. Ben's throat tightened as he remained staring down upon his son. 'No, Joe was no longer the boy he had been before this cattle drive...'

Faint bruising and a few remaining scabs were the only visual reminders left from the explosion the boy had survived, but it was the lasting effects, hidden from the naked eye in moments such as this, which caused Ben's heart to plummet as his mind moved back to the day of his son's initial wakening.

_The once remote storm had crept up on the small, desert town of Laurel Springs as he remained lost in his own private hell. It wasn't until the first flashes of lightning illuminated the dim confines of their room, followed by its accompanying roar of thunder,_ _that he was ripped from his own, dark thoughts. But it was the faint moan, which followed, that shook him to his very core . _

_"Uhhh..."_

"_Joseph?" He called out, startled as if almost afraid to hope. No immediate response followed his inquiry. _

"_Joseph?" He asserted again, this time more forcefully as his tired eyes sought out the shadowy form of his son in the now dim interior. Cursing the gloominess brought on by the storm, he quickly turned to search out a match in which to light the oil lamp upon the table beside him. His nerves got the better of him as he fumbled with the contents upon the table until he came across his goal. Striking it, his impatient hands then moved towards the wick, but it was some seconds later before it caught light. Too much time had elapsed since he had heard the meager cry beside him, and letting caution fall to the wayside, he didn't replace the lamp's protective globe. Instead he swung back around, fraught with the need to examine his son for any noticeable change in his condition. _

_The unbridled flame behind him flickered in a wild dance brought on by a draft in the room, causing it to cast only ill-suited snatches of light, which did nothing to aid him. So he was forced to turn right back around and replace the globe, fitfully turning the key in the process to increase the illuminating glow it shed. Then immediately turning back to his son, he uttered, "Joseph?" once more. _

_The pale cast revealed his son's still face, causing Ben to wonder if perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. Brushing such thought aside, he called out his youngest child's name again. "Joseph?" The deep timber of his spoken word caused the boy beneath him to stir in reaction. _

_Unable to contain his joy, his voice broke as he attempted conversation once more while tears brightened his dark eyes. "Joe, it's Pa. Can you hear me, son? Wake up for me, boy. I've been waiting such a long time."_

_Long lashes fluttered in reaction to the directive spoken above him before opening to reveal the unfocused hazel gaze beneath. _

"_Joseph...Thank God!" Ben breathed when it appeared at long last that his son had finally been returned to him. _

_But this moment of awe and anticipation was to be short-lived, replaced moments later by rampant confusion and continued despair. _

_For in his elation, Ben Cartwright reached out to his son, making ready to gather the waking child into his embrace; one that had long seemed so natural between the two of them. But with their first contact, even in Joe's weaken state, Ben could feel the boy flinch then stiffen within his hold._

_Withdrawing immediately his disconcerted eyes peered down towards his son while he questioned bewilderedly,"Joseph, what is it? Have I hurt you?" _

_The boy, however, did not respond to his questions. Instead, an inarticulate screech rose within Joe's dry throat as his hazel eyes darted about the dimly lit room around him. _

_Unsure of how to proceed, Ben extended a comforting hand to rest lightly upon his son's shoulder as he responded reassuringly, "It's Pa, son. We're in Laurel Springs. You were in an accident a few weeks ago, but you're recovering now. You've just awoken from a long sleep. You've come back to me...just like I knew you would. I'm with you, Joseph. It's Pa! I'm right here. You're going to be alright, son."_

_The reassurance he tried to convey with his touch and spoken words were not to be accepted, for immediately, Joe recoiled from his father's close proximity, breaking their contact as his head rolled back while his neck and shoulders arched upwards upon the pillow underneath him. A weak and fearful cry tore from his throat. _

"_Joseph?" Ben called out, frightened now by what was taking place in front of him. "Joseph?" He attempted again as his startled eyes witnessed his son's body begin to thrash back and forth upon the bed. Then turning abruptly, Ben lunged for the door, almost tearing it from its hinges as he opened it while his hoarse voice barked out to anyone who might be in the boarding house hallway. " Help! My son needs the doctor! Someone, please go for Doctor Timmons!"_

Glancing back momentarily towards his son's still face, Ben's uneasy gaze traveled the length of the blue blanket to where Joe's previous movement revealed the tail end of a binding restraint tied around his left hand. Though it remained hidden, another like it claimed similar custody of his right hand as well. It was a precautionary measure only- incase Joe was to suffer another of these periodic, rough awakenings he had been prone to ever since coming out of his coma. Though Ben had been appalled at Dr. Timmon's suggestion towards employing such measures, Harold had rationalized it was more for Joe's protection rather than his own or whomever might be in the room with the boy during such an occurrence.

For in the beginning, after weeks of being in a coma, the boy was too weak and his muscle tone too atrophied, the doctor reasoned, for Joseph to prove a threat to anyone but himself during one of these episodes. The truth be known, however, during each and every one of these disturbing incidents, Ben Cartwright's heart was in grave danger of breaking as he watched his youngest child struggle and cry out against the fetters which bound him to his bed like a wild creature caught up within a trap.

"_The lasting effects of a traumatic head injury are very unpredictable, Ben."_ Harold Timmons had cautioned in the days following Joseph's initial awakening. _"I can't really tell you what to expect."_

'What had he expected?' Ben wondered as he remained sitting beside his son. 'Certainly, not what had followed, though thankfully Joe's troubled awakenings seemed to be growing less and less frequent with each, passing day. With this knowledge, Ben had been able to convince Harold Timmons to allow him to free Joseph of his restraining bonds during the daytime hours once the boy no longer seemed to feel as threatened and was perhaps more sentient to the goings on within the room about him. Still the anguished father's heart cried out. For though Joe no longer faced the plight of an ensnared animal during his waking hours at least, his son continued to be a prisoner to the residual damage inflicted upon his body and mind from the explosion he survived. Joseph remained aloof to all human contact while staring off wordlessly towards some other worldly plane- one, which proved unattainable to all others who tried to reach out and help the boy, including himself.

**A/N - Many thanks to those who are continuing to read this story and for the kind words you've left in response to it. I hope you enjoy this newest chapter. :)**


	8. Home

**Chapter 8 - Home**

"What? You can't be serious!" Harold Timmons retorted.

"I've never been more serious in my life, "answered Ben Cartwright. "We're going home. I need to get Joseph back to the Ponderosa. If there is any hope of him recovering, it will be there- at the place that is nearest and dearest to his heart. I'm sure of it."

"Do you have any idea how long a journey like this will be?" questioned the doctor before amending himself confoundedly. "Well, of course you know how far it is! What I'm trying to say is, have you given this any consideration? A trip this size under the best of circumstances is quite an undertaking. And you...you plan to do so with the boy? Think of Joseph! He's not fit for such a journey. You can't be serious!" Harold Timmons blurted out once again.

"But I am," Ben Cartwright answered. "If there's any hope for my son, then it's to be found at the Ponderosa. What have we gained by staying here?"

"A son who is alive!" The physician shot back.

"Please, Harold, don't take me as being ungrateful. Yes, Joseph is alive, but what more can you do for him here?"

"What more can I do?" Harold's voice rose with his increasing annoyance. "Why I can keep him that way along with his foolhardy father! Please, Ben, think!" The doctor pleaded. "Think of the long miles ahead of you, across some of the most inhospitable territory the West has to offer. Think of the dangers... the scarcity of sufficient watering holes, the lack of human contact, vulnerability to the elements, not to mention the threat of renegade Indians."

Harold Timmon's concerned grey eyes peered over at his companion from behind his wire spectacles before adding. "And think of the boy... his needs...his inabilities... Why he's just beginning to relearn some of the necessities of life that we take for granted. How can you even think of charting such territories with these burdens upon you?"

"My son is not a burden!" Ben Cartwright shouted back. "He has never been a burden!"

Harold Timmon's curtailed his end of the argument as he rolled over in his mind the irrationality of Ben Cartwright's most recent reply. Yes, his was indeed the more clearheaded thinking between the two of them, but eying the boy's father once again, he knew he would not make any headway, at least not now, if he continued on with his present pursuit. So the good doctor backed down and changed his tactics.

"I would be more at ease if Joseph's brothers were along to accompany you back to the Ponderosa."

Shaken from his previous outrage, Ben Cartwright looked warily towards the doctor, knowing that what he said now made the most sense. Yet still, he could not comply to this stipulation, though he hid this ultimate agenda from the man across from him. "Yes...yes...that would make the most sense. I 'll wire my sons to let them know of our return. They could meet up with us halfway."

"Why not the whole way? They could be here in a few weeks," Harold reasoned.

"No, I don't have the time..."

"What do you mean you don't have the time?" Harold Timmons countered causing his friend's ire to rise once again.

"Look, I don't need to explain myself to you. . I've taken care of myself and my own for the better part of my lifetime. I will wire ahead to Hoss and Adam with my plans. They'll be able to meet up with us in a matter of days and accompany us the rest of the way home. But I'm starting out with Joseph...

"Please, Ben, think," the country doctor intervened. "Joseph has many needs. He can hardly stand on his own, much less walk. What if you were to meet up with trouble? What if the wagon was to lose a wheel or worse? What would you do then? How would you transport the boy?"

Ben shook his head in denial to Dr. Timmon's continuing debate before asserting. "You keep throwing 'what if's' at me, Harold. Don't forget, I'm a seasoned traveler."

"Yes, that might be so, but what of Joe's medical needs? His headaches?...The episodes he suffers with? Why the boy can't even communicate effectively... I don't know what your expectations are, Ben, but I can assure you that your son will be anything but an adept companion. For God's sake, at least think of him!"

"It's him that I am thinking of..." murmured Ben uneasily as he turned away from the man he was verbally sparing with to glance back through the half open doorway toward his son.

Over the last month, Joe had made some strides. Slowly, Ben, with the support of the doctor and Mrs. Wilkes, had facilitated Joseph in beginning to relearn how to feed himself and master, once more, the basic skills needed to carry on with life. None of these small gains could be taken for granted as Ben thought back to the early days of just aiding his son with sitting up in bed with the support of many pillows as he regained control over his withered muscles.

It was just in the last weeks, that they were finally able to get the boy out of bed, as he began to take the first of many unstable steps in an effort to walk once more. Tears threatened to fill Ben's dark eyes as he remembered the boy's enduring confusion and then resistance to the demands they placed upon his recovering body. The first of many sessions ended terribly with Joseph retching up his lunch followed by ragged and inconsolable sobbing until he exhausted himself completely and fell into a fitful sleep.

But still they continued to push him, though the boy remained initially opposed to their helpful gestures, only to eventually comply with the increasing demands they placed upon him, if only out of automation and ghostly resignation.

Joseph's mind, however, was another thing. The boy had yet to utter a single word though Ben continuously tried to engage his son in daily conversation. It was this fact that tore at his father's already vulnerable heart the most, and it was this fact that convinced Ben that he needed to return his son to the only home he knew pronto. For though the patriarch of the Ponderosa might be capable of making peace with the fact that physically his son might never be the boy he was before his accident, both mentally and emotionally, Ben could not conceive the possibility of his son's mind and soul forever remaining barred to him. To never see the sparkle of mischief that would alight in his son's green eyes or to hear his irrepressible giggles when he had one upped his two older brothers, or to feel the warm clasp of his child's return embrace when he enfolded his youngest into his arms was too much for this father to bear.

"Joseph..." Ben whispered longingly as he watched the boy resume his habitual pattern of staring off into the distant corner of his room.; his once sharp, bright eyes never really zeroing in on anything about him save, perhaps, one of the two rod iron figures which adorned the footboard of his bed. "...forgive me, but I have to try... I just can't give up on you, son...the stakes are too high."

And turning back to the older man beside him, Ben Cartwright finished his previously stalled converstation on a desperate note, "I have to try., Harold. I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing that I didn't give my son this chance, no matter what the cost..."

**A/N - Many thanks to those who are continuing to read this story and for the kind words you've left in response to it. I hope you enjoy this newest chapter. I don't want to hit you over the head with this, but I will say the second to last paragraph holds some significance to where the story will be going. :). **


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